No ***** Blues

My face is finished, my body's gone.

And I can't help but think standin' up here

in all this applause and gazin' down

at all the young and the beautiful.

With their questioning eyes.

That I must above all things love myself.

I saw a girl in the crowd,

I ran over I shouted out,

I asked if I could take her out,

But she said that she didn't want to.

I changed the sheets on my bed,

I combed the hairs across my head,

I sucked in my gut and still she said

That she just didn't want to.

I read her Eliot, read her Yeats,

I tried my best to stay up late,

I fixed the hinges on her gate,

But still she just never wanted to.

I bought her a dozen snow-white doves,

I did her dishes in rubber gloves,

I called her Honeybee, I called her Love,

But she just still didn't want to.

She just never wants to.

Dammit!

I sent her every type of flower,

I played her guitar by the hour,

I patted her revolting little chihuahua,

But still she just didn't want to.

I wrote a song with a hundred lines,

I picked a bunch of dandelions,

I walked her through the trembling pines,

But she just even then didn't want to.

She just never wants to.

I thought I'd try another tack,

I drank a litre of cognac,

I threw her down upon her back,

But she just laughed and said

that she just didn't want to.

I thought I'd have another go,

I called her mah little O,

I felt like Marcel Marceau

must feel when she said

that she just never wanted to.

She just didn't want to.

I got the no ***** blues.

I got the no ***** blues.

I got the no ***** blues.

I got the no ***** blues.

I got the no ***** blues.

I got the no ***** blues.

I got the no ***** blues.